


Tease Me, Please Me

by Emela



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Jealous Derek, M/M, Mates, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Derek, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It would be a shame if the birthday boy was the only one not to get laid on his special day, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>Derek nods. “Most definitely.”</p><p>“Care to make my birthday wish come true…?”</p><p>“Derek,” he supplies, unable to resist leaning in to lick a stripe up the boy’s neck, pleased when it makes him lose his bravado somewhat. Oh, Derek is definitely going to ruin this kid.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Derek meets Stiles at a club and bathroom sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tease Me, Please Me

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked for "STEREK AU / Derek Hale eyefucking the hell out of the gorgeous, amber eyed boy, shaking his lithe, perfect body on the dance floor ... God. He just wants to ruin that beautiful boy for everyone else EVER." I hope it's everything you wanted and I didn't put anything in there you didn't like! 
> 
> Please enjoy the next 2K of shameless smut my Sterek comrades! <3

Derek’s doesn’t visit Jungle

Derek’s doesn’t visit Jungle often. The smell, for one, is awful; sweat and spunk attacking his werewolf senses like they have a personal mission to take him out. The problem with Beacon Hills, however, is it has exactly one club, and when your older sister- who loves to “shake it” (her words, not his) - wants to celebrate her birthday, there aren’t many guesses as to where her little brother is going to end up going with her.

Derek is fully prepared to turn up at the club, make sure Laura is having a good time, and go home.

That’s the plan anyway. That is, until he sees  _him._

A perfect, lithe, bets-it-would-look-so-good-spread-out-beneath-him body shaking his goddamn ass on the dancefloor like his life fucking depends on it.

And those  _hips._ Who moves their hips like that outside a bedroom anyway? Apparently this guy does, and Derek just can’t look away. Fuck, he’s only just noticed him and he already wants to  _ruin_ this kid.  

Which presents Derek with his second problem of the night. Sinful hips (sue him, what else is he meant to call him?) is a  _kid,_ probably no more than seventeen.

That right there should send Derek straight back out the door and home to a cold shower (see: a guilty jerk-off session). But apparently his body has other ideas for him, taking a seat, his mouth asking for a drink at the bar before he even realises that he’s making himself comfortable to eye-fuck this kid.

He’s not alone in looking mind. Derek can sense several pairs of eyes directed the boy’s way, can smell the arousal of the bodies surrounding him on the dancefloor, each trying to get close enough to touch and probably much more. Derek- not usually the irrational sort- wants to charge over there and glare those bodies off, perhaps show a little fang in the process (and then plaster himself to the boy’s back and feel how those hips move against his.)

Thankfully for the men and woman dancing alongside him, the kid doesn’t seem to be aware of the attention he is getting  _at all,_ too caught up in the music, eyes closed, enjoying whatever personal bubble he’s wrapped himself up in.

Not to mention, there’s the arm movements; long, ridiculous, flailing arms which threaten to take someone’s eye out if they try and get too close. Even that, Derek regrets to note, doesn’t make him any less attractive. In fact, it just adds ‘endearing’ to every other positive adjective spinning through his mind right now.

Derek takes a long drag from his glass when he finally remembers it’s there. Any moment now he is going to stop acting like some kind of creepy stalker and stop staring, and he’s totally ready to do it too, just on the verge of moving his gaze in search of his sister when sinful hips turns around, opens his eyes, and looks right at him.

Sinful hips smirks, like he knows exactly what Derek wants to do to him; the smirk only growing wider when Derek gives him no indication he  _isn’t_ thinking about fucking him against a wall right now; because, let’s face it, there is no chance in hell Derek would be able to wait long enough to take him back to the loft. There are  _I want to take you home_ hook-ups and there are  _If I don’t have you now there is a good chance I might die_ hook-ups and sinful hips is definitely the latter. (Not that Derek wouldn’t mind taking him home too. Hell, he’d make him breakfast in bed the next morning if it meant getting more time to get acquainted with that body.)

Still, Derek doesn’t really think he’s in danger of losing his control here. He’s a big boy who can appreciate sex appeal without having to pounce on it. (Even if his wolf likes that image in a far less than metaphorical sense.)

No, Derek is in no real danger, but then the song ends and sinful hips, possibly tired, possibly just trying to _ruin Derek’s life,_   _starts walking towards him_. It might have been okay, Derek still might have had a fighting chance at this point, if it isn’t for the fact he now gets his first real look into the kid’s eyes.

Amber…wait, honey…no,  _whiskey,_ eyes meet his, and isn’t it just Derek’s luck that they happen to be doe shaped? It’s not that Derek is a walking werewolf cliché, but he would be lying if he doesn’t admit the whole “prey” thing doesn’t do anything for him. His first crush had been Little Red Riding Hood. Cora (and horrifyingly enough, his mom) still mock him to this day for it.

“Hi,” sinful hips- or maybe that should be luscious, pink lips- says, coming to stand in front of him. (Derek is just glad he’s the type of guy who’s not prone to saying everything he is thinking out loud. God, he’s embarrassing even to himself. Luscious, pink lips? _Really, Derek?_ )

“Hi,” Derek says back lamely.

“What are you drinking?”

“Nothing you are old enough to buy,” Derek answers, giving sinful hips-luscious lips (sue him) what he  _hopes_ translates as a this-is-the-point-where-you-walk-away face, all the while praying the because-I-sure-as-hell-can’t inference isn’t picked up on.

“People usually by drinks for me, not the other way around,” the kid smirks, inching further into Derek’s space and sliding two hands up his thighs. They are good hands too, Derek notices; strong, attached to long, sure fingers. (Derek definitely does not want to find out how those fingers would feel inside him or wrapped around his dick.)  

“If you think I’m going to buy alcohol for a minor, you’re wrong,” Derek huffs, giving himself a mental pat on the back. Totally the bigger guy here.

That is, until sinful hips’ smirk widens.

“Not a minor,” he whispers, lips ghosting Derek’s. His heartbeat doesn’t stutter and Derek’s eyes must widen in disbelief, or surprise or something, because the kid- uh, man?- is suddenly rolling his eyes and pulling out his wallet from his back pocket and shoving a driving licence in Derek’s face.

“Uh, Happy Birthday,” Derek says, ignoring how his dick twitches as  _legal legal leagaaaaal_ sings in his head as he hands the proof he isn’t going to get jailed tonight back over- (because, yeah, there is just no way Derek is going to be able to walk away now, not with the waves of arousal pouring off the boy.)

“Thank you,” he whispers, fluttering his eyelashes and Derek shifts forward in his seat, desperate to touch. “You here alone?”

“It’s my sister’s birthday too,” Derek replies. Wow, his voice sounds croaky. Why does his voice sound croaky? “She’s about somewhere. Are you?”

“Friends all left me to go and hook up with other people,” sinful hips pouts his, oh so full lips. “It would be a shame if the birthday boy was the  _only_ one  _not_ to get laid on his special day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Derek nods. “Most definitely.”

“Care to make my birthday wish come true…?”

“Derek,” he supplies, unable to resist leaning in to lick a stripe up the boy’s neck, pleased when it makes him lose his bravado somewhat. Oh, Derek is  _definitely_ going to ruin this kid.

“Stiles,” he whispers, tugging at Derek’s shirt.

Derek is about to ask what the kind of name Stiles is, because really, but suddenly the kid is kissing him, moving one hand further up his thigh until he is palming Derek through his jeans.

Which is how they end up in one of the bathroom stalls two minutes later.

As soon as Derek locks the door, Stiles turns from cocky to desperate within the space of a second, dropping his pants and boxers and bracing himself against the wall, presenting himself like bitch in heat.

Derek doesn’t know whether to thank whatever god who decided to give this to him, or whine because there are  _moles_ dotting that ass. Derek wants to bite, and possibly take a picture, but settles instead for pressing up against Stiles, grinding his clothed erection slowly against him.

Stiles moans beautifully in response, widening his legs until the material around his ankles gives him no more room to manoeuvre.

“Such a good pup for me,” Derek hums into the boy’s neck, enjoying the way the vibrations make him shiver.

“So good,” Stiles breathes shakily, trying to reach back for Derek’s hair, perhaps for another kiss, but Derek takes hold of those exquisite hands in one of his own, pinning them above Stiles’ head. Fuck, and the kid just goes with it too, letting himself be stretched, back arching slightly; wantonly.  

“Be still or I might not let you cum at all,” Derek growls, completely contradicting the threat by placing open-mouth kisses between Stiles’ shoulder blades. “Might just take what I want from you and leave you here a cum-stained, used mess instead.”

Derek wonders for a moment if he’s gone too far- he would never actually do that to him- but Stiles must get off on the idea of being humiliated, throwing his head back and whimpering like Derek has just touched his cock.

“Such an eager little thing,” Derek says, no idea where the dirty talk is coming from, using his free hand to tease Stiles with feather-light touches down his back, making him shiver. “I’m gonna make you scream, pup.”

“Yes,” Stiles moans, licking his lips and nodding. “Make me yours.”

Stiles can’t know how much those words affect Derek- affect his wolf- and fuck, does he want to make this boy his. Claim that sweet ass, come all over those moles dotting such, pale, fragile skin. He wants to mix their scents together.

He wants to  _breed_ this kid.

Derek explores Stiles’ skin, trailing his hands over the skin, the little dip in his back. He really is beautiful, pure almost even though Derek has a very good idea Stiles is anything _but;_ his suspicions confirmed when he finally lets his fingers trace over Stiles’ hole.

“What have you been doing here?” he asks, trying to sound teasing as he presses against a plug- an actual goddamn _plug-_ smirking when Stiles whimpers. “Already so slick and open for me,” he says, swallowing, hoping he sounds sexy, commanding, _something_ other than how lost he actually feels.

“A good boy is always prepared,” Stiles says, startling and making a high-pitched noise when Derek sharply twists the plug and slowly pulls it out, replacing it with two fingers. It’s wet, wet enough to fuck him, he thinks, but just to make sure he reaches around Stiles’ body and teases his slit until his fingers are coated in a fresh spurt of pre-cum.

Stiles makes another noise at that, something far more needy and desperate than before, and Derek finds himself rocking against the boy’s hip, just to take some of his own edge off. Stiles seem to like that, rolling his hips expertly back against him. Derek is pretty sure he isn’t going to make it.

“So perfect for me,” he praises, for the first time in his life _needing_ to talk, slipping his newly slicked fingers back into Stiles’ hole and moaning appreciatively when it instantly clenches around them, greedy for them. For him.

“Want to be,” Stiles gasps, trying to rock back down onto Derek’s fingers and whining when Derek doesn’t let him, tightening his hold on his hands. “Was dancing for you…saw you come in…wanted you to come and fuck me in front of everyone…show them how it’s done.”

 _Christ._ Is this kid trying to kill him?

“Would you like that, Stiles?” he asks, grazing his earlobe with this teeth. “For me to have pulled your pants down right then and there? Show you off to everyone and jerk you nice and slow, let everyone see just how prettily you harden under my touch?”

Stiles makes a noise like a wounded animal and nods his head eagerly. “Would you have been jealous if someone had joined in, started touching me too?” Despite the smirk that appears on his face, eyes closed as he brings his head back to rest on Derek’s shoulder, Derek can’t help but detect the insecurity in Stiles’ voice.

It occurs to Derek then that even though Stiles clearly knows what he looks like and what he does to people, maybe no-one has ever actually  _shown_ him how sexy he is. How fucking beautiful. That there’s no question Derek would have gotten jealous. It makes him weirdly angry, that no-one has maybe ever appreciated this kid. Derek is going to fix that.

“No-one would have touched you,” Derek growls, more than a little concerned about how possessive he’s being over a guy he’s just met. “I’m not in the habit of sharing something so gorgeous.”

Stiles swallows and lets out a shaky breath, biting down on his lower lip when Derek adds a third finger.

“You’ve gone quiet on me, pup,” Derek says, biting down gently on the boy’s neck, sucking a mark there for everyone to see tomorrow. God, he wants to mark him up so bad. Wants to _be_ marked up. Make sure everyone knows-

“ _Derek._ ”

“You gonna to cum on my fingers?” Derek shakes himself out of his thoughts. “Make an embarrassing mess of yourself?” He loves that Stiles doesn’t answer- can’t answer- that all he can do his shake and whimper as Derek brushes back over his prostate, massaging it.

“Please, I can’t,” Stiles begs. “I need you to touch me.”

“Like this?” Derek asks, moving the hand above Stiles’ head to tease the slit of his cock like before.

Stiles makes a strangled sound, body arching and legs shaking. “Not enough,” he whispers. “ _Please.”_ He’s almost crying now and Derek can’t resist pulling Stiles back from the wall then, pulling him flush against him and hooking his chin over the boy’s shoulder as he pulls his fingers out of him completely.

Stiles whines in protest, pushing his ass up against him and sobbing when he finds nothing to give him release.

Derek chuckles. “I think you can do it, pup,” he whispers, breath catching as he watches pre-cum dribble down Stiles’ cock, red- beautiful, even- at the word.

Kissing his neck in silent encouragement, Derek returns to teasing Stiles’ slit, moving up only slightly to fondle the head, squeezing it gently.

Stiles gasps. “Bastard. Please, Derek, if you…don’t do more…I’m not going to…make it.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“Asshole.”

Derek grins and wrapping one arm around Stiles’ waist, holding him up, he unzips himself and pulls out his cock. “This what you want?” he asks, sliding it in-between the boy’s cheeks, relishing in how good it feels to  _finally_ feel that pale skin on him  _there._

“No,” Stiles whines. “No, no, no, I want you  _inside_ me.  _Please._ ”

“Mm, I like it when you beg. Just for me. Say it’s just for me, Stiles. That you’ve never begged anyone else before.”

“Never.” Of course, that’s what Derek expects Stiles to say. What he doesn’t expect is to hear a steady heartbeat accompanying it. The thought tips him over the edge and suddenly, he’s coming. Coming so fucking hard, howling as he does and, apparently, that’s all it takes for Stiles to get there too; to make his body shudder and tremble, hands scrambling behind him, latching on to Derek. Derek has just enough sense to lift Stiles’ t-shirt up as he spills all over Derek’s hand, the pearly liquid coating his own stomach and hitting his chin.

They’re both panting hard as they come down from their highs, their scents intoxicatingly intertwined and Derek can’t resist running a finger through Stiles’ cum and tasting it- and god, yeah, so maybe this boy _is_ just perfect because he’s pretty sure cum isn’t meant to taste that good. Derek once read that when you met your mate they taste- but no, that is silly. Stiles isn’t-

“I still want you to fuck me,” Stiles whispers, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Derek smiles, turning Stiles’ face to kiss him.

“That can be arranged,” he says. Not sure what else he _can_ say, because _shit._

***

(Spoiler: they fuck on every surface in Derek’s loft.)

**Author's Note:**

> The [ tumblr](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com/) that is proof I have no social life. I try to make time to care, but Sterek keeps distracting me.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Again, Please](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627590) by [Feech](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feech/pseuds/Feech)




End file.
